promises to keep
by lionheartedbrookeworm
Summary: It's the dead of night. He's woken to find her gone. Only the sweet lavender scent that clings to the pillow beside his is the only sign that she was even there at all. Written for Sleeping Hook week.


It's the dead of night.

He's woken to find her gone. Only the sweet lavender scent that clings to the pillow beside his is the only sign that she was even there at all.

He rises, uncaring of his state of undress, and moves through the halls of the grand palace.

It's far too warm for him. The dry, desert kingdom was never their home for long. They'd spend a little while here, allowing Aurora to tut around in her corsets and ballgowns and be the queen she was born to be.

This is the life she was destined for, and he knew that.

And most of the time, it wasn't even him yearning for the sea, yearning for the cool, salty breeze.

(Not openly, that is.)

It would be her hushed whispers as they lay in bed, legs entangled and arms wrapped around each other. It would be a soft whisper against his heart as she kissed her way over his heated skin, as she hummed softly into the shell of his ear.

"Let's go home." She would whisper, voice light as air, as sweet as honey.

And he would pretend to bate her, pretend to fight her. She belonged here, he was fine, he was happy at her side. And then she would lean on her elbow and roll her eyes at him with that effortless 'Killian, please' expression.

And then they would set sail, unsure of when they would return.

She thrived on the sea in ways he never knew possible.

And he was certain he fell more in love with her each time they set sail.

But he knew she loved her palace life, the life she was bred for.

He knew she loved her people and her daily duties. He knew she missed them, for she always wanted to go back eventually.

But what she missed most was her gardens.

He smiles to himself as his bare feet brush along the grass, the blades cool in the balmy air. He sighs in relief, and his eyes search for the little lantern that would signal where his queen was.

She's on her knees in the dirt, hands digging and scraping at a stubborn plant. He can hear her grumbling, hear the way her silk robes brush in the grass.

He tries not to laugh, but he can't help it.

She jumps at the sound of his laugh, cheeks turning bright red in the dim light. "What are-"

"Come to bed, love. It's late." He reaches his hand towards her, but she pushes it to the side, turning back to her garden.

"I'm almost done. I have to finish." No one can tend to the garden like she can, she once insisted. No one understood the plants like she did.

He'd laughed at her then, finding the idea quite silly.

But somehow, he knew it was true. The blooms seemed more colorful around her, like they stood at attention in her presence as stiffly as the courtiers that visited from other lands. Her crooning voice and gentle touch seemed to bring forth life unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

He waits, watching her claw at the ground, watching her move the thick, soft dirt around the base of a rose bush.

It takes a moment, but finally she's satisfied, and she rises to her feet. She doesn't seem surprised to find him there, waiting with an amused smile. Instead, she just rolls her eyes and reaches for the little towel near her lantern and dabs at her hands to brush the dirt off.

"You can go back to bed, Killian. I'll be back in a moment." She smiles, reaching to prune an overgrown bloom.

"I can't sleep without you, my love." He croons, sliding his large hand around her waist.

"Killian..." She huffs, but makes no move to escape his arms.

"Your precious plants will be there in the morning. Papa needs tending to." He croons, nibbling on her earlobe.

"Killian!" She exclaims, voice suddenly very strained and anxious.

"You need your rest." He offers.

"I'm sure you won't be letting me get much sleep, darling." She croons.

"You never know." He teases, fingertips toying with the lace on her robes.

"I know you."

"And I know you. And I know you're tired and want to be held by your dearest husband." He whispers this in her ear, like she does on those nights she yearns for the sea. "And I know you want to go home."

She grows still. He waits a moment, listening to the sound of her breathing.

"I do." She whispers, spinning around in his arms to look up at him. Her dirty hands are warm as she brings them to his chest, and he can smell that earthy scent that always clung to her when she gardened. He loved it. "I know we've only just come back...and they need me...and my garden needs me but..."

"You wish for your husband to take you away, don't you?" He murmurs, lips brushing hers.

"Is it that obvious?" A soft little smile crosses her lips, and he notes the pink flush on her cheeks as he reaches behind her to pluck a rose off her bush. He tucks it behind her ear, and then moves to hold her close again, a grin making its way across his lips.

"Only a little, Highness." He kisses her, and holds her to his chest, fingers gripping her waist tightly to keep her close. "I'll even let you grow a garden on deck."

Her face lights up at this. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." He teases.

She gasps and grabs his cheeks in her earth soaked hands, dragging him down into a deep, needy kiss. When she pulls away, her eyes have darkened with that lust for adventure, lust for her husband and the high seas. Her grin grows mischievous, unlike anything any Queen of the Sands should posses.

And it thrills him.

"When do we set sail?"


End file.
